Seventeen and Crazy
by Ouvalyrin
Summary: Malik Ishtar tries to make sense of his life, his other, and the two white-haired freaks living next door. FLUFF! {hugs it} Malik x Bakura
1. Chapter One

**Warnings/Disclaimer**

YGO. Mine. ...Really. Oh--just ignore the frantically waving Malik and Bakura holding them signs that say I'm lying. And..why are they tied up? Um...kinky...bondage...sex...?  
(For the record though, I don't. Own YGO, that is.)

Don't. Ask. I'm 12 and less than sane.

- - -

_"Well," she said, "I'm seventeen and crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane..."_

_Clarisse, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury_

- - -

Malik was scary. With capital letters: S-C-A-R-Y.

His other, Yami no Malik as he was now called because of the lack of being able to call him anything else, was scarier. Malik wasn't sure if it was the hairstyle, the eyes, the voice, or simply the fact that his face...stretched...while he was talking. Though Malik still couldn't see how standing around and talking with the meddling hero(es) instead of proceeding with whatever your evil plan happened to be at the moment was helpful to proceed with said evil plan. But really, he was only Malik Ishtar, the--you know--guy who possessed the Millennium Rod and came all the way to Japan just to gain revenge, but turned out to have misinterpreted some mysterious dude's (in other words, Shaadi's) words.

...and when said aloud, that sounded really pathetic.

However, even though Yami no Malik and Malik were freaky-scary-cool-hot dudes, their sister was scary. Bypassing scary _and_ capital letters (S-C-A-R-Y) and heading right into **S-C-A-R-Y** (!!!!).

And that was the reason why the Ishtar children had left the warm sands of Egypt and headed into the happy, friendly, welcoming arms of Domino City, Japan.

"Isis, have I told you yet how much Yami and I hate you?"

"Only for the past five hours, Malik."

"...Yami and I hate you."

Isis sighed and leaned her head against the window of the plane. _What the hell was I thinking?_ she wondered, sounding somewhat uncharacteristic. But, then again, taking her younger brother and his slightly insane (read: homicidal, spiky-haired, DBZ hairstyle-stealing) other to move into Domino City permanently had been...

Well, uncharacteristic.

- - -

"This is where we're living now."

_No, this is where we're going to die. _

The really disturbing part about that was Malik couldn't tell if that had been sarcasm. He thought it may have been--but this was Yami no Malik living (kind of) inside his head, not--oh, say for instance...Yami no Yuugi. Who lived in Domino City. Who he (Malik) was going to be seeing a lot of. Who was undoubtedly going to feel as though he needed to banish both Malik and his other to the darkest strip of spaghetti-land of the Shadow Realm the moment he laid eyes on them.

Which was not an experience Malik was willing to experience again.

_We have neighbors!? _

_Yes, Yami, we have neighbors. We live in a city now. Not __Egypt__, where the only thing you can see is sand, Domino City. _

_...they die. Now. _

The Millennium Rod began to glow (softly--yes, Yami no Malik had heard of subtlety, though he generally left it to Malik) as he tried to take over. Rishid's presence was the only thing stopping him[1], much to Malik's chagrin; if someone was going to prevent his other from controlling his body, then he'd like it to be him, not his surrogate older brother!

Isis, having somehow foreseen this within the past five minutes of waiting for Malik to move out of the way so she could actually walk through the door, glared.

Yami no Malik, never having faced the power of older sisters, glared back. Since Isis technically was his and Malik's guardian though, she knew that Malik wouldn't allow his other half to kill her...sort of. Looking at his mood though, Isis realized suddenly that, looking at her younger brother's mood, Malik just might be pissed enough to try and kill her himself.

Rashid stepped in at that moment, tactfully trying to nudge his (sort of) younger, insane brother and his more insane (insaner?) other through the doorway.

"I think," he said, voice somewhat hoarse from not having said anything for a few hours (Malik staring out the window of a plane and playing with his Millennium Rod--not that one, his gold one, the one he kept the back of his pants and occasionally brought out to try and control people, and man this was sounding more and more perverted by the second--tended to have that kind of effect), "it would be nice to see the inside of the house."

Malik crossed his arms, muttered something that vaguely (or not) sounded like, "I'm going to kill you all," and moved inside.

Isis massaged her headache and wondered what the hell had possessed her when she'd thought up this bright idea.

- - -

Several hours and a whole lot of bitching (all coming from Malik, who more delicately termed it as criticizing) later, they'd managed to unload most of their luggage from the moving van(s) and stuff it in the various rooms they had chosen.

_Why the hell do you want the attic? _Malik demanded crossly.

_...I don't need to answer that. _

_As long as you're living in my head, yes you do! _

_What the hell do you think you can do, other than bitch? _

_I can tell Yami no Yuugi all about those fantasies you've had. _

_...what fantasies? If you mean the ones about me stabbing him to death while laughing maniacally, you're a fine one to talk! _

_Ah, but Yuugi and the others don't know that those are the only fantasies you've had, do they? _

_...You're a sick, sick light. _

_Thank you. I learned from the best. _

A mental pause. _Who? _

_You. Now, why do you want the attic? _

_...it's high up, it's far away from you pathetic mortals-- _

_Excuse me? _

_--and it'll make the perfect evil lair. _

_Lovely. More take over the world shit. Call me when you're done getting your ass kicked, mou hitori no boku. _

_...are you suggesting that the Pharaoh can defeat me? _

_He did last time, didn't he? _

Yami no Malik found no answer to that, and simply deigned for whirling around and disappearing back to his soul room.

"Are you done staring at the wall and arguing with yourself?" Rashid asked, his tattooed head appearing around the door. In anyone else, Malik would have taken that as sarcasm (and it was), but that meant Rashid would have to be capable of joking...and, as unkind as it might have sounded, Malik didn't think that possible.

"This is our room," Malik said unhappily. (Secretly though, the idea of trying to kill Yami no Yuugi or at least take his power away wasn't all that annoying or distasteful.)

"I see." Rashid's expression was inscrutable. Yami no Malik, peeking through Malik's eyes, thought incredulously, _He's laughing at us!_ He then wondered if he should very politely (read: in as messy and bloody a way as possible) remind Rashid who had almost died, and what had stopped the almost certain death.

(Actually, it'd been Bakura and his creepy other, but that was a whole different story. Literally.)

- - -

Downstairs, Isis rubbed her temple, fighting the urge to kill her younger brother. Brothers. Did she technically have three, since Rashid was adopted and Malik's other younger than her? But Rashid was older than her, but she was their legal guardian...

Sighing, she decided not to think about it, and went in search of aspirin.

The doorbell rang. Isis answered it, trying to keep her usual mask of distant aloofness in place.

_Think calm...serene...mysterious...yes, that's it, you're doing well..._

"Hello," the white-haired boy from Battle City said cheerfully, holding what looked like a cake in his hands, "I'm Bakura. We live next door, and I thought we should say hello and all. I picked up a cake at the local bakery and thought you'd enjoy it..." Eyeing the large, golden Millennium Ring around the boy's neck, Isis decided not to comment on Bakura's pronoun usage.

Isis wondered why her Necklace hadn't seen fit to warn her of this; at least she could have bought a different house!

"Hello, Bakura," she said, making an effort to seem less vague and dreamy and praying that Bakura didn't recognize her. Oh yes, she remembered just how--insane Bakura was when he dueled, and just how powerful, and just what she did not need at the moment. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we can't"--_what do non-magical people say?_ Isis thought frantically, mind racing--"invite you in...?"

"That's all right," Bakura said, and practically shoved the cake in Isis' hands. His smile seemed to be a bit strained, and Isis realized he probably recognized her--_damn, damn, damn_, Isis thought, throwing mystic-ness to the winds.

"We'll come back later--after you're settled in, naturally. Good-bye!"

And just like that, Bakura was gone. Isis stared down at the cake, and thought, _Well,__ at least I don't have to make dessert tonight._

- - -

Back in the safety of his house, Bakura thought as fiercely as he could, _You could have warned me! _

_Don't be a fool, yadonushi, how the hell could I have known? _

The glow from the Millennium Ring faded as Yami no Bakura retreated back, and the spikes of Bakura's hair lay (somewhat) flatter.

Bakura held his hand to his heart, feeling the racing beat under his fingers, and realized just how close to sending Isis to the Shadow Realm his other had gone.

- - -

"You did what!?" Malik screeched, completely forgetting about the cake he'd been preparing to dig into only moments later. (Which was a pity, because it really was quite good.)

Isis stared at him. Rashid slid some more aspirin on her plate, but kept a few for himself; he had the feeling that he'd be needing it soon.

"Malik--"

"Damn, he was hot. I liked him!"

_...Malik, you're an idiot. _

- - -

**Fin **

- - -

A/N: ...and so ends the first (and possibly only) chapter of what has to be the stupidest fan fiction ever written.

[1] -- From what I understand, Rishid's presence somehow...pushes Yami no Malik into Malik's mind and forces him to remain dormant, though very much aware and pissed.


	2. Chapter Two

**Warnings/Disclaimer/Notes**

YGO belongs to many, many people. I'm sure that somewhere out there, there's a long list of who YGO belongs to. Believe me when I say my name isn't on that list, and after seeing the complete butchering of the dubbed version, if it ever does make it on there, I'm whiting it out and destroying all copies.

Yup.

Silly randomness, OOC-ness, Malik x Bakura fluff, shounen-ai, profanity

Review replies are on the bottom. Thank you for reviewing, and know that I suck at responding to said reviews, so if I accidentally offend you or sound too patronizing, I'm sorry. I miss my little carat signs . . . they make me sound/look more like me, and less like someone who hasn't had any human contact all summer

And go read _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury. Has nothing to do with the fic and is pretty dark, but absolutely beautiful, especially when you get all the hidden meanings and stoof.

**Seventeen and Crazy**

**: 2 :**

_"Well," she said, "I'm seventeen and crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane . . ."_

_Clarisse, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury_

* * *

Bakura – and his other half – did not make a habit of killing people.

Killing people bad, Bakura knew.

Killing people too messy to be really effective when you could just send them to the Shadow Realm and dump their bodies in a junkyard somewhere, Yami no Bakura knew.

There were, naturally, exceptions to every rule.

Malik loved his bike. It was big and black and shiny, made big scary noises, and was . . . shiny. And went very, very fast, and if stupid little squirrels and bunny rabbits had to get in his way while he was tearing down the roads, then too bad.

On the other hand, people were different. If Malik hit people (it was always an accident, including the time when some idiot had to go and make some comment about Malik's hairstyle and fashion sense . . . even if said idiot had been three stories up in his fancy apartment and Malik had to take the elevator with his motorcycle), he made sure no one was hurt beyond a broken limb, and then promptly tore out of there.

There were, naturally, exceptions to every rule; sometimes he hit people on accident accidentally.

Malik looked at the ancient Egyptian spirit before – more like under – him and attempted a sexy grin.

"Attempted" because the while the grin was sexy, the circumstances were not.

No, Bakura and/or Yami no Bakura were not hurt when Malik nearly ran them over on his bike.

No, Bakura was not ready to strangle him with his own bare hands, set all of the Shadow Realm after Malik's ass (all right, who wouldn't be after Malik's ass?), or at the very least, summon Man-Eater Bug. Malik also doubted Bakura could do all that, but hey, you never knew. It was always the quiet ones . . .

Yes, Yami no Bakura was ready to do all the above and more.

"It's been a long time?" Malik offered weakly and began to back away slowly.

Yami no Bakura looked at him.

"Malik?" he asked, as if realizing it for the first time. Malik quickly ran down the list of the names of the people he'd offended and/or killed; Bakura's wasn't on there.

"Hi," he said. "Wanna go and get drunk?" Because then you'll be too drunk to try and kill me properly and I can run back to Isis' . . . retreat back to Isis' house and warn Rishid was left unsaid.

Yami no Bakura ignored that comment.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he barked out, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering in true pissed off ancient Egyptian spirit fashion. Malik thanked whatever god that came to mind repeatedly; he wasn't dead, obviously.

"Isis moved," Malik said.

Yami no Bakura looked blank. His eyes unfocused a little, and Malik waited as patiently as possible, well-versed in the ways of communication between a host and his other half. Though Isis was right . . . people did look spacey when they were talking like that.

"You done yet?" Malik asked, and if he were a little less "cool," he'd be tapping one foot in agitation. Or irritation. Or possibly both.

Yami no Bakura muttered something in an archaic version of Arabic under his breath. It sounded suspiciously like an insult.

Yami no Malik responded in kind, only no one but Malik heard him.

You understood that, other me?

Didn't need to, Yami no Malik sneered. It's Dark Bakura.

Malik considered that for a few moments. Good point.

"All right, all right, there's no need to get personal," Malik said.

Yami no Bakura focused his eyes- an odd shade of amethyst-red, not at all like the brown Malik had thought they were; hey, you learned something new every day- on him. Was that contempt? Malik bristled; who the hell did Bakura think he was, some powerful spirit-person with the ability to pull monsters out of his ass?

...oh.

"Your other half"- shit yeah, that was contempt, though how, Malik had no idea- "nearly kills me, and you expect it not to be personal?"

Well, when he puts it like that...

You're just begging to go the Shadow Realm again, aren't you.

Malik smirked. And see Pharaoh kick your ass again? Hell, yeah.

As if he would help you.

...point.

* * *

Yami no Bakura had no idea how or when Bakura- his stupid, silly, fluffy host- regained control of their body, how or when Malik and his insane other were invited over for tea (metaphorically, or else Yami no Bakura would've been taking Bakura's body for a joyride out the window), but he didn't like it.

What he liked even less was, at Bakura's insistence, he was sitting next to his other, transparent and pissed as hell.

(No matter what Bakura said, he was not pouting or sulking. He was a thief. The Thief King, for whatever god he could remember's sake. He did not pout, he did not sulk, and especially not in the presence of some blond brat.)

"Ignore mou hitori no boku," he heard his other half saying, "he gets this way quite a bit."

Yami no Bakura fixed Bakura with his iciest glare, before remembering that his "I'm going to rip you apart with my teeth, you disgustingly well-done piece of steak"1 glare was much more effective, and Kaiba had copyrighted icy glares.

Damn lawyers. Sucked out your blood and went through your bank account (or piggy bank) like a knife between the ribs.

...from what Yami no Bakura could remember, that had actually been a little tricky, but he digressed.

**Fin**

A/N: This was short. Very short. And it's been a long time. And I said I wasn't sure if I was going to be continuing this...but that's no excuse, is it?

Consider this a slightly belated...Easter gift. ;

1 – Remember that scene? I have an animated GIF of Dark Bakura ripping that piece of steak to shreds with his teeth. I showed it to my parents and they know that I'm a Dark Bakura fan and...insane. Needless to say, my parents haven't given me steak since.

(I like it raw.)

Since I am now 13 instead of 12, belated birthday wishes anyone? XD


End file.
